Letter to Lucy (1803–1808)

Pennsylvanian earth resembles us—

red flesh veiny with water, perfused

with motion & stirred by all the quirky Energies

of life, ours

or a windy marsh with bitterns and ducks—that’s

a business fit for a man like myself, strong & quick

as you can find, Lucy, and not to be found much longer

in the pestilent port of New York

as apprentice-clerk in a commercial house.

I did not realize how dearly I would detest it,

seventy-five thousand persons calling one place

home! & me a merchant! My life has not subdued itself

to Indigo & wine. Thoughts of thee

were like the silver thread I tied last spring

around the phoebe’s leg, knotted loose

to cause no injury but to hold

forever. & soon I will return from a year

of scribbling bad english in a dim room

to show your father my worth. My sum would be

no greater for any more of that. One year given him,

Love, I offer you the rest.